


Dusty Packages

by Lidsworth



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, Humor, I just had to, M/M, Mpreg, pregnant Asami, protective Akihito
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Asami returns to Akhito after a prolonged absence, the photographer notices that the Crime Lord is no longer the same. Not only has he fallen  ill, but he's grown angry and distant. However, not all is as it seems, and when Akihito reads over Asami's medical reports in secret, he discovers that the  “illness” is no ordinary illness at all.</p><p>Warning: Pregnant Asami (yes, I know it's weird, but it's been bugging at my conscience).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dusty Packages

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My best friend's sister ] said to her once, “"If no story interests you, then you'll simply have to make your own story!” Firstly, let me just say that it's not that no story interest me at the moment, it's just that I've wanted to see a story like this published, and unfortunately I've been to nervous to ask for a request, so I decided I would just write it myself. Not only do I expect this not to get that much attention, but I expect it to attract a lot of trolls. But this is just an interesting take on an idea that's been plaguing my head since....i dunno, a long time.  
> Also, I'll be adding one or two OC's in here, but they'll be introduced as they go on. Again, i'm very nervous about this story, so a comment or two wouldn't hurt.  
> Summary:  
> Because Asami's enemies presumably target Akihito, and Akihito alone, Asami spends most, if not all of his time, protecting the photographer and ensuring his safety. However, in doing so, he has left himself open for those who only aim to hurt him in the most gruesome and cruel of ways. And when a ghost of his past does just that, Asami finds himself coping with an outcome he's never faced before. In addition to his new “problem”, he's forced to put of with a side of Akihito he's never seen before, as the boy's persistence and nagging nearly drive Asami to a premature death. However, he does get closer to “love” then he's ever gotten before, and finds himself very unprepared when he's going to lose it all so suddenly.  
> Anyway, warnings: mpreg, torture

The digital clock read 4:30 a.m. That last time Akihito had seen Asami had been two days ago.

Takaba Akihito paced around the large bed room, and chewed at the raw skin on his finger in an attempt to calm his nerves down. His tired eyes went back and forth from the large white bed, to the door that was left slightly ajar in hopes that the owner of the apartment would miraculously walk through.

As the seconds dragged into long, excruciating minutes, that drowned into painful hours, Akihito would conveniently forget that it was he who had set ajar the door in the first place, his eyes would play tricks on him, and he would see a tired, groggy looking Asami step through the threshold. Like always, he would carry his suitcase in hand, his dark jacket would be hung loosely around his shoulder, and the air of exhaustion would reek off of him like a stench from a rotting carcass.

Unfortunately, he would blink, and realize that there was no one at the door, and that Akihito himself was alone in the room, still pacing, and still praying that Asami would show up.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sometime between five and six a.m, Akihito fell asleep on the cold, hard floor. The draft from the open door found the photographer with a small coughing spell, and a painful aching sensation all over his body. At the sight of the door still exactly ajar as it was earlier, Akihito felt like vomiting as a feeling of despair slammed into his gut like a cold rock.

Asami still wasn't at the Penthouse, in fact, judging from the state of the hardly touched bed, he most likely had never come home that night.

Before Akihito knew it, he was up, and reaching for his cell phone on the night stand. Unlocking it, he flipped to the contacts list, and let his finger hover over the name “Kirishima Kei”.

Never had he imagined he'd be calling Kirishima's number, but Asami hadn't come home at all, and Takaba didn't know what to do. Usually, the older man was the one calling Akihito if he was late.

With heavy a sigh, he pressed the contact, and listened to the heavy play back tone of the heavy, automatic ring.

He stood there for what seemed like hours. The vibrations of the ringing beat inside of his eardrums, and filled his body with more trembles than his original nervousness had.  
He nearly hurled the piece of metal at the wall when he was met with the emotionless voice of the answering machine.

So Kirishima wasn't answering either? And Suoh was still like a shadow in the night to Akihito, as far as he was concerned, the blond only existed for Asami's needs. Not Akihito's.

With a sigh, he looked at the clock. It was almost time for work, and this constant worrying was going to make him late.

Defeated, he plopped down on the bed with a soft cough, and felt the large cushion sink under his weight. Burying his head in his hands, and raking his fingers through his silky hair, he sighed.

Why the hell did he care so much? For all he knew, Asami could be out clubbing with some girl...even if that technically wasn't the type of person Asami was.

Suddenly, logical seasonings for Asami's absence began to fill his head. Perhaps the older man was at a business meeting in another country, or staying with a friend or family member. As obscene as such reckonings sounded to Akihito, he reminded himself that he hardly knew anything about Asami, so anything was up for grabs.

Asamsi was Japan's top dog, perhaps all of Asia's top dog, there was no reason why he would be in any trouble. With that reassuring thought in mind, Akihito happily began his daily morning routine.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Work was hectic, and incredibly tiring. But when was it not? By his lunch break at noon, Akihito found himself slaving away to some cheap restaurant, where he could devour some unhealthy, high in calorie meal, and return to his job feeling worse then he did before.

Chasing his targets at the speed of light always burned off the extra fat though, so indulging himself once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

With his straw in his mouth, and the contents of his Styrofoam cup nearly drained, he took his phone out of his pocket and chanced a quick text to Asami.

For five minutes, he stared at the bright screen of his phone, tapping his finger on it here and there to keep the bright light shinning.

Still, nothing.

At that point, Akihito became away that he was sucking up dry air, and that his drink was all gone. With a sigh, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, put his trash in the bin near the exit, and returned to work.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The call came when the sun was setting, and the moon hung in the air, transparent and visible only by the rays of light that shone in the darkening blues of the sky. With his camera bag slung over his sore shoulder, courtesy of falling into a dumpster, and a tired stride, the buzzing of his phone seemed to send a pulse of life throughout his worn out body.

Quickly, he reached for the device, and without even checking to see who the caller was, he answered it and put it to his ear.

“Hell-”  
“Akihito, come to the hospital quickly. We'll be waiting there.”

The line cut off just as quickly as it had been picked up, and Kirishima's urgent voice howled in the breeze that blew past Akihito.

The photographer could feel his heartbeat quicken at the stern command, and realized that under Kirishima's voice, a tone of urgency and tiredness supported the request. Even without further discussion, Akihto was most certain that the call had everything to do with Asami.

Without further hesitation, or much thought on the matter, Akihito began his walk to the hospital.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Spending a portion of his childhood in and out of hospitals still hadn't gotten him used to the latex, sanitizing smell. White coats fluttered into his vision, and the bright neon lights made him feel slightly nauseous and sick. Nevertheless, even with his vision blurred from the brightness, he followed Kirishima down the pale hallway, and into Asami's room.

Kirishima hadn't supplied him with much information, only saying that Asami had been hurt, and it would be wrong if they withheld their bosses condition from him for any longer.

So with numb feet, and a frozen heart, Akihito followed the Secretary down the hallway. All emotions he would halt until he saw just how bad Asami's state was. Repeatedly, he reminded himself of just who Asami was, and noted that it took some guts, and some real leverage to bring such a man to his knees.

But with the look on Kirishima's face, the feeling of confidence drowned out of Akihito's system, and onto the floor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
Upon seeing his “love”, Akihito had never repressed the urge to vomit as hard as he did then. One would think that years of sneaking rated R movies at midnight, or reading bloody comics, or watching war documentaries with his father when bored would prepare Akihito, the average Japanese youth, for the sight below him. But when someone so close to him bore the scars of inhuman torture, he supposed his excuse for the sudden dizziness that had befallen him was very explainable. This wasn't the first time he'd felt like this.

It wasn't Asami's face that had been touched, if anything, it was stained with a fading bruise, and a bandage on his cheek. His arms were covered in IV's and white gauze from the wrist to underneath the blue, hospital scrub, which was lifted just enough to expose the stretch of red, angry skin that was so messily bound together by large stitches on the older man's abdomen.

Akihito observed the steady rise and fall of his chest, and watched as the oxygen mask fogged up with every exhale produced by the man.

His hair dark hair fell in his face, and for once, Asami looked at peace.

Despite their current predicament, judging by Asami's state, Akihito assumed it could have turned out worse, much worse.

However, it was Kirishima's answer to a very pressing question that filled Akihito with dreadful dread.

“W-when will he wake up?” Asked the photographer, as he maintained to keep a calm and collected voice.

Almost as if he was ashamed of himself for allowing his boss to be swept out from under him, and hopeless of an ending, Kirishima answered with a gloomy tone, “We are not sure if he will.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They couldn't tell him what had happened to Asami, because A, they didn't want him to know, or B, they didn't know themselves. Back and forth, Kirishima went from the Penthouse to ensure Akihito was safe and okay, only to return to the hospital and keep a vigilant watch on his boss.

Days had passed, and still, information regarding a motive, or a cause for Asami's “torture” had been scarce, and positively vacant. Why these unknown enemies who appeared from thin air targeted Asami, and left him alive in some shady warehouse was beyond Kirishima's knowledge. Not to mention, in his absence, these people had done something to his boss, something that had made Asami incredibly nauseous the moment they found him.

The stitch was totem enough for the enemies sick dedication, yet even the best doctors hired by Kirishima could not discern the problem in Asami. Kirsishima wanted to tell himself that Asami was alright, and that when-if he woke up, things would return to normal.

But the secretary feared that the damage went far beyond the restrains of physical damage, and perhaps delve deeply into Asami's psyche.

And while his boss was known to brave it through hell, something about this sick, experimentation made Kirishima think that this time things would be different.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Two weeks had passed, too long, uneventful weeks, and Asami still slept soundly in his coma. As for Akihito, he felt like a shell of his former self. Call it depression, or an immense amount of sadness, but from his morning routine to his day hard at work, his actions lacked the energy and light that was so customary of Akihito. He'd been reduced to a shallow skin of who he used to be, and simply just lived to live.

In public, he was happy, he cast an occasional smile here and there, and chatted with his friends. However, at home alone, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, or do anything productive until he had to. During his time in solitude, he was solely intent on just waiting, rather then doing, because he'd rather not have it come to him while he was happy.

It being the news of Asami's death, as the doctors had found the older man's condition worsening. Like a virus eating away at the Yakuza, some fatal, malicious parasite was destroying Asami.

And the doctors couldn't find it, they had looked everywhere, yet they had found only traces of the virus.

So with that thought in mind for the hundredth time, Akihito descended into bed, and prepared himself for sleep. However, the sharp click of the keys, and the sound of the front door opening woke him. Squeezing his eyes tighter than he ever had, and allowing the sensation skin behind his lids to burn with tears, he bit back a sob. Kirishima had told him that he would personally tell Akihito if Asami had passed, and the younger man assumed that this was him doing so.

As the door to the bedroom opened, he held his breath. This was it, this was the end. Things would most defiantly change after this.

Letting go of the air, his shuddered breath echoed through the room as another being descended onto the bed, denting the large cushion. That was strange, to say the least. Why on earth would Kirishima crawl on the bed with Akihito, not to mention, get so close to him?  
“Um...Kirishima?” whispered Akihito.

The body which slowly loomed on him paused at the name, “Kirishima, I certainly hope not.”  
The deep voice resounded throughout the darkness, and instantly tugged tightly at Akihito's strained heart.

“A-Asami?”  
“Hm?”

How he did it, Akihito wasn't entirely sure, but in a second, he was above Asami, and the older man was pinned to the bed with such a force that he never believed Takaba could muster.

“You bastard! Don't do that anymore!” Shouted the photographer, “Be more careful!”

At this, the Yakuza supposed he should have been angry at the photographer's irrational greeting, but in all honestly, he was just as happy to see the Akihito as the Akihito was to see him. As always, Akihito just had a bad way of communicating his feelings.

“Were you lonely without me Akihito?” chided Asami, as a smirk made it's way to his features, “Did you miss me?”  
For a while, there was silence. The photographer's eyes were watery, and stinging slightly with tears. And whether Asami was teasing or not, Akihito was glad to have him back.  
Despite the darkness, he could discern Asami's much lager figure with surprising ease, almost as if the older man was glowing. Tired and unconcerned at the moment, Akihito brushed off this “glowing” condition as a weird side-effect of the medication taken by Asami in the hospital, and said nothing about it.

He was just happy to have Asami back.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nearly three weeks had passed, and though Asami was back, Akihito felt that most of the older man had disappeared with him during his absence days ago. He was vacant, and his eyes were an endless abyss of darkness. Not to mention, Asami was sick, and getting worse. He was vomiting every morning, and what he was throwing up, Akihito didn't know. Perhaps his medication? Not to mention, he was tired, very tired, and though he tried to hide the fatigue he felt, Takaba could read Asami like an open book.

The scar bothered Akihito a lot. It reminded him of something straight out of a horror movie. And though Asami wore bandages to cover it, whenever he showered, or when Kirishima came to change them the gauze, Akihito always caught a glimpse of the gruesome stitches.

Alongside that, Asami had been utterly silent about his absence during those painful days. Takaba wanted to ask him about it, badly, but assumed that if Asami hadn't said anything about it, then it wasn't Akihito's business.

But than again, if his business was Asami's, then Asami's business should be his as well. It wasn't as if he was some sort of stranger, or desperate house wife who couldn't take bad news.

So after days of endless internal debate, Takaba had found the strength to ask Asami about the stitches and the story behind them.

“It's none of your concern,” replied Asami, who with his stern words meant to cut off any further discussion.

“B-but Asami, you're-”

“I said it's none of your concern,” hissed the Yakuza, “Drop it.”

“Asami-”  
“ Akihito! Enough !” The man raised his voice with such venom and scorn, that Akihito had found himself at a loss of words after Asami had spoken. Akihito was mad, of course, and afterward, had gone out and spent the entire day with his friends.

But Asami's tone still haunted him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Why the Crime Lord still tried to attend work, Akihito didn't know, but what Akihito did know that he was called out of his own job and told that Asami had passed out, and was back in the hospital. Apparently, his condition had worsened right after a business meeting, and he'd passed out in the hallway.

Now the photographer stood in the waiting room, wasting his lunch break on a man who refused to tell him anything, who would continue not to tell him anything. Asami certainly did take Akihito for granted.

With a sigh, he plopped down in the cushy chair, and closed his eyes. This was an utter waste of time, and knowing Asami, his “virus” was most likely a lack of sleep or something of the sort.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
He didn't find it strange when Asami didn't tell him anything when he was allowed to be seen, nor did he find it strange when the entire car ride back to the penthouse was filled with silence, and nothing but the crinkle of papers as Asami looked through the reports given to him by the doctor.

He supposed that if Asami had a cigarette, he would have smoked it by now, as the man's stress levels looked extremely high.

With a sigh, Takaba looked out of the window, and watched as cars passed by them on the street.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The minute they arrived home, Asami showered and went to bed. He spoke not a word to Akihito, nor did he go out of his way to make any sort of contact. It was like Akihito was the sick one. Due to the recent spell of silence that had befallen the couple, Akihito just ignored Asami's attitude, and went to cooking his own meal. He assumed that Asami was just on some sort of weird medication (again), and that perhaps he just wanted to be left alone.

Another week of celibacy wouldn't hurt. Yeah, if your a Catholic priest! At the realization of what had just crossed his mind, Akihito slammed the pot in his hands down onto the stove, and angrily started finding some ingredients to put into it. This entire ordeal was so incredibly stupid.

Akihto was certain that if Asami swallowed his abundance of pride, and spoke, than things would be better between the two. Perhaps Akihito could have talked Asami out of overworking himself too!

But no, that man had to be so damn stubborn.

Takaba rolled his eyes, and walked out of the kitchen as the water began boil. He knew he should not have left it alone, but he didn't feel like standing up. His legs were tired, and frankly, he was too. Ten minutes on the couch wouldn’t kill him or burn the noodles on the stove.

So with a tired step, he trodden to the large couch, but stopped as a leather binder resting on the table caught his gaze.

The binder was thin, and papers stuck out of it, making it look slightly messy. Walking over towards the table, Akihito bent down, and removed the papers from the binder.

One glance of the title told him that they were Asami's medical reports, thought their contents were still unknown to him.

He looked over his shoulder and towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. Asami was dead asleep, so reading these wouldn't be a problem.

Now sat on the couch with the reports laid neatly across his lap, Akihito told himself to expect the worse, especially if Asami was being silent and mysterious.

So without further ado, Akihito began to read.

The packet was full of things Akihito had already been aware of like dates and symptoms. Then there was the immense amount of medication and instructions for taking them that followed, and the doctors name that simply read Doctor Ivan.

Akihito nearly threw the papers down, as he was gaining nothing from their content.

However, when he came to the last few pages of the packet, things took an unexpected turn.

White sheets were covered with typed sentences as well as hand written notes. Words like “experimentation” and “gruesome” had been tossed around, not to mention “Underworld” and other things related to Asami's line of work.

However, the very last bit and the words that followed it had captivated Akihito the most. Below all the writing was a simple typed sentence-really, not even a sentence. It was a fragment. “Diagnosis” it began, in it's dark, murky text, that seemed to do a terrible job at reflecting the severity of the diagnosis itself, “pregnant”.

All for a total fragment reading Diagnosis: Pregnant

Though his last name garnered confusion of those who did not know him, Asami was 100% male. Akihito was certain. So perhaps this was wrong, perhaps Dr. Ivan had made a mistake?

The photographer reread the small fragment over and over again, yet nothing added up. Wanting to believe that this was indeed a mistake or some sort of joke, Akihito debated on whether he should take these papers to Asami. However, words scribbled in pen beside it threw out all though that this may be fake.

To be terminated tomorrow.

He had not realized he wasn't breathing until he nearly passed out from a lack of oxygen. All together, the obscene diagnosis combined together for a full Diagnosis: Pregnant. To be terminated tomorrow.

To be terminated tomorrow...to be terminated?

Akihito attempted to wrap his mind over the already screwed up situation, and had conveniently forgotten the previous discovery for the latter.

If a pregnancy meant baby, even if somehow (and Akihito was still very unsure) it came from Asami, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. As weird as the situation was, Akihito was quite accepting of obscure things...but there would be no accepting of the situation of their was no situation to accept.

If Asami went through with this termination...

It's not your damn business, go put the reports back before he wakes up! Shouted his conscience, Pretend you didn't-

“Just shut up, won't you,” Akihito snapped at himself as he hopped to his feet and made his way to the bedroom. The papers were clenched tightly in his fist.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
The seed of doubt was still nestled deep within his head to the point that he was certain that this was a hoax of some sort. Perhaps that would explain Asami's mood swings. Had Akihito been told that he was pregnant, and a guy in Asami's position, he'd probably be upset too. Come to think of it, he supposed Asami was handling it rather well.

So Akihito found himself before the large doors that were opened just enough in order to allow a perfect view of Asami laying in the bed, just feet away from him. With the reports in his hand, he slowly crept into the room, and took a seat in the large, fluffy bed.

With the small ray of light from the hallway shining on Asami's figure, he found that the man did look extremely tired. Maybe I should ask about it later, thought Akihito, as he began to make his leave. However, an iron grip around his wrist prevented him from moving. Below him, Asami stared with one golden eye visible.

Akihito nearly recoiled at the sight of Asami, who looked like some wild animal that should never have been awoken in the first place. Suddenly, he was having second thoughts about comforting Asami, but with the man fully awake, he couldn't back down now.

“Is something wrong, Akihito?” began a groggy Asami, “If it's about dinner, I believe I told you that I wasn't going to eat.”

“Yeah...it's sorta about that—how are you feeling?” Asked Takaba, “Any better?”

Asami sighed, and closed his one visible eye, “I'm fine, now leave me alone.”

it was amazing what small things could blow of Akihito's fuse, and he supposed that later in life he should probably schedule a therapy session for his temper.

“Fine?” Akihito hissed with sarcasm, “You're fine, these reports_” he tossed the paper at his partner, “Say differently.”

Takaba had finally had it with Asami's reclusive attitude, and complete lack of empathy for Akihito even though he attempted to care for him.

At the sound of the papers being thrown at him, the Crime Lord sat up. As he did so, the blanket fell off of his torso, revealing the horrific stitches.

Asami's keen eyes scanned the documents in the dimly lit room, as a sliver of light entered through the darkness. His expression was unreadable, yet it was as if his breathing had stopped. However his loosening grip on Akihito's wrist had told the photographer that Asami was still alive.

The silence seemed like to longest period of nothing in Akihito's life, and he feared that this moment would bleed out into an agonizing eternity.

“Where did you find these?” The stillness broke as Asami demanded an answer.

“...I...”

“It's none of your concern and it will be taken care of, get out.”

Akihito's eyebrows twitched, “So it is true, and that must mean your way of dealing with it is real too?”

The photographer knew he had no right to corner Asami like this, nor did he have the right to demand the unthinkable. He still knew little of what happened during his lover's absence, and with the outcome of this “situation” he assumed lay Asami's reasoning of wanting to terminate the problem.

But as Akihito saw it, this was no problem...

Silence returned, but its reign did not last nearly as long as the previous silence had.

“Why can't you tell me what happened when you were gone? It's not like I’m some kid who can't take the real world-”

“Aki-”

“I've been through shit because of you, you know, and there's still nothing wrong with me. Hell, I’m still bad with “stranger danger”! So telling me what happened isn't going to destroy me anymore then being with you has-”

“Akihito, I haven't told you what happened because I don't remember anything,” and goodness, was that tough for Asami to admit. Akihito could tell he wanted to avoid it at any cost possible. But it wasn't like telling Akihito that he didn't remember anything would change the photographer's stance.

“So you're still getting rid of it?”

“If it means resuming my life as it was before this, than yes, I will do so with no qualms.”  
Asami was heartless, cruel and cold. His was a killer, and wasn't afraid to end the lives of those who opposed him. Takaba had seen him do it before, as his notorious reputation in the Underworld was what had captivated Akihito in the first place. Yet, Akihito never thought he'd live to see the day when Asami turned on his own flesh and blood.

The thought made Akihito sick.

“Don't do this Asami,” he found himself protesting, “It's not right!”

“You don't have the right to say anything Akihito, now get out,” the man commanded sternly, “and tell no one what-”

“No, i'm not getting out! Think for a change Asami! You can't just kill something that can't even-”  
“I can do whatever I want whenever I want Akihito, and it will never be your concern, nor will you have a say in anything I do. Mind your own business and get out!” Asami hadn't shouted, but he had raised his voice, and in the process, had managed to pin Akihito down on the bed, before realizing him like he was some creature.

The words themselves had cut deeper into Akihito than a blade did to flesh, and his face stung with blush as he fought the urge to swallow his scream.

“I-i'm not some kid who you can just sent to my room when you get bored of me. Believe it or not, I’m a person, and I have a voice and an opinion-”

“I never told you to go to your room, I told you to get out of my house, I’m growing tired of you and your opinions, so leave for the night.”

“So that's it! I'm just some sort of dead weight that has no say in anything you do, yet you supposedly “own” me? Ha, since I don't matter that much, why don't you just get rid of me too!” his comment reeked of sarcasm, “at least your life will be normal without me and some baby in it, huh-”  
“ Akihito-” the man hissed like an angry dragon, but when Takaba started a rant, it was extremely hard to get him to shut up.

“What, did I surprise you? It's a baby, Asami! That's what it is, a little human that's just not developed! Hey, but you kill big humans all the time, so what should it matter to you! I'm sure if I got on your nerves, you'd have no-”

“Akihito” GET OUT!”

“I WAS ALREADY ON MY FUCKING WAY!” Bellowed the photographer, with volume that rivaled that of Asami's, “And while I'm gone, have fun fucking yourself by yourself, because I'm not standing for this shit anymore you bastard! The moment you decide to finally “deal with” your son or daughter will be the moment you won't see me again! Believe It or not, I know what it's like to not be wanted, and it fucking sucks! So have a happy life alone!”

Before he knew it, his hand was on the door, and he slammed it with a force that could have possibly knocked it over.

He was fast and angry, and even as he walked out of the penthouse, and into the elevator, he pressed the buttons with such a fury, that he had no idea where he was going. He didn't even care if his nooodles were burning.

He just wanted out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“It was success, however, he means to have it terminated tomorrow afternoon,” spoke the brunette, who sat at his desk, “and I’m at no liberty to say no.”

“Ivan, we need this to work,” pleaded a female voice on the other line, “ it must!”

With a sigh, the doctor stood up, and began to pace around his dark office, “And it did work. But did our employer honestly believe that upon discovery of this situation, that Asami Ryuichi would think about preserving the life of the fetus for a second? The experimentation was a success, my infiltration was a success, but as a doctor, I had to tell him the truth. Someone would have caught on later.”

“And blow our plan at the same time?”

“I am a doctor before I am a scientist, and you should know that more than anyone. Better he knows now and deals with it now, than get shot in the stomach later, or destroy the fetus when he's further along,” responded Ivan, “and when he comes in tomorrow to have the fetus destroyed, I will provide him with just that.”

“But our boss-”

“He is your boss, not mine! I only did it for the payment, and what are this man's motives? For such a big shot, he seems very quiet about his reasoning for doing such rash things.”

“Ugh, just keep the fetus alive until my boss tells me what to do, okay. I'll add in a little extra, how about that?”

“Depends on what your “extra” is,” responded Ivan, “Asami Ryuichi will notice I am not who I seem if I begin to delay the abortion. The only way this will work is if he keeps it, and we know he won't.”

The female sighed, “ Ivan, please.”

The Russian doctor grunted at the tone she used when she was desperate, very desperate.

“Fine, fine...I’ll do what I can, but I need time. I need a lie, and a good one.”

“ I can-”

“Do not come here, do you understand? This is supposed to be extremely confidential.”

“ But I can't help you if i'm away...”

“Goodness, meet me in my office tomorrow morning at eight, do not be late, understand?”

“Got it! Ivan thank you so much! Anything else?”

“I saw a ghost from the past,” chided the doctor, “though he didn't see me. He's grown up quite well, he has. Blond hair, blue eyes, and he's gotten taller. Not to mention, he seems sure of himself, not at all how he was when he was younger..”

“Uh...Well that's good, but I need to go. I'll be sure to tell my boss about your findings ,he'll be happy to know it worked!”

The phone clicked off, and the Russian sighed. He was getting himself into a big mess, and he knew it.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it, something different and something slightly twisted. Ivan will begin to make more sense later, as well as the woman he's talking to, and the man she's working for. Sine this is my first story of this nature, I am opened for critique, but flames as usual will not be tolerated, but you guys who flame don't care, so if you feel like leaving a flame or two, by all means be my guest. This is self beta'd , so forgive me for mistakes.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this slightly different twist to mpreg, and btw, God bless.


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